


Precious Things

by SarahNoel



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: EXCEPT FILI I'M SORRY, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Passive Suicide Ideation, Thorin Abdicates, gonna live in the Shire babeeey, survivor's guilt, thorin is Big Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29406972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahNoel/pseuds/SarahNoel
Summary: Just little Bagginshield moments spanning from the Arkenstone search to Thorin healing after battle.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Precious Things

Thorin had exhausted himself digging through gold coins that stank of dragon. He was pale, and his blue eyes, which Bilbo had at least once thought beautiful, were bloodshot and full of a gleaming darkness like the hoard itself.  
Bilbo found him early one morning sitting on one of the enormous staircases. Thorin's back was to him, and he sat very still, looking off slightly to his left. An ocean of gold sat below him.  
"Thorin," Bilbo said, and Thorin's head turned slightly, but not enough to look at him. "Did you get any sleep?"  
"It's not yet night," was Thorin's cold reply.  
"It was hours ago, when I told you. Remember? And now it's already morning and you--" Bilbo gave a worried sigh and sat down next to him. "Aren't you tired? Thorin."  
Thorin blinked and looked at Bilbo. His eyes lost a little of their crazed edge.  
"I am," he admitted, almost smiling, and looked back over the hoard below. The momentary light in his face faded. "But I cannot rest until my kingdom is secure."  
"But you can," Bilbo said, trying not to let too much desperation creep into his voice. He turned himself more towards him. "And your kingdom is secure. Please. If… if my friendship could be worth a few hours rest, do it for my sake if nothing else." Bilbo tried to smile as Thorin looked at him at that with slightly hazy confusion.  
"For your sake?" His eyes were almost clearing. He turned more towards Bilbo. "This is all you would ask of me, Master Baggins?"  
"And a good meal, if you can stomach it," he replied cautiously.  
Thorin reached out and squeezed Bilbo's shoulder, his eyes shining now only with tears. Then he leaned down and rested his forehead on Bilbo's other shoulder. His voice when he then spoke seemed to rumble directly into Bilbo's core, making his heart clench and his stomach flip.  
"Of all the treasures now under this mountain," Thorin said softly, "you are one of the most precious, Bilbo."  
Bilbo's insides froze painfully. He couldn't smell Thorin, there was only smoke and metal and something inherently dragon-like. Bilbo reached up and touched Thorin's shoulder, almost expecting to feel scales. But no, there were thick layers of cloth. And when Thorin turned his head slightly in response to his touch, the skin of his forehead brushed Bilbo's neck, warm to the point of being feverish.  
"I don't know if I can find rest," Thorin said softly.  
"I'll do what I can to help," Bilbo replied.

Bilbo led him up the many stairs to the bedchambers. The one that Thorin had chosen wasn't his original one, but his grandfather's. The king's. The bedpost itself was gold, as were many of the other objects therein. But Bilbo didn't lead him into there, but into Thorin's old room. Thorin had only been through it once since the dragon had left--to sweep up any childhood treasures and valuables and dump them in a heap at the foot of the king's bed. As a result this room was somewhat sparse, drawing light from only the fireplace. It had a strange hominess to it, or maybe it was that old sense of familiarity. My room. Bilbo's old coat was already thrown across the armchair.  
"Were you in here before?" Thorin asked suspiciously.  
"I've, uh, slept in here the past few nights," Bilbo said apologetically, "I hope you don't mind."  
"No," he said honestly. The thought instead warmed him with affection. Bilbo turned down the bedcovers as Thorin shed his outer layers of clothing.  
"Can I get you anything?" Bilbo asked awkwardly, "oh, maybe some water--" he started for the door.  
"No!" Thorin said quickly, holding out a hand as though to stop him. "Will you stay with me, instead?"  
Bilbo blinked at him. His eyes flickered to the bed, and back. "I…? With…?" He gestured a little, but quickly accepted that Thorin really did mean for him to stay in the bed. "Sure. Sure, of course."  
Tired as he was, Thorin had forgotten momentarily that Bilbo had better manners than a dwarf. A dwarf, if he were uncomfortable, would have refused and perhaps sought a compromise, like sitting in the same room. But Bilbo simply set his blue coat and vest carefully on the armchair by his red one, crossed the room, and crawled into bed next to Thorin. It was like the hobbit radiated an aura of protection and peace for Thorin. Bilbo's presence meant something was going right.  
Bilbo lay on his back, tucked under the furs and stiffly staring at the ceiling. Thorin was on his side, waiting for the waves of anxiety to completely wash away.  
"Thank you," Thorin said. He rested his hand on the mattress between them. Bilbo looked over, turned onto his side to face him, and took his hand.  
"Just sleep," Bilbo said. His little hand disappeared in Thorin's.  
"One day," Thorin whispered, "I'll be the one to protect you."

\--  
“I am so sorry,” Thorin managed to say, “that I have led you into such peril…” his voice sounded far away, even to himself. He could barely hear when Bilbo spoke.  
“No, no, I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them.” Bilbo leaned down and quickly pressed his lips against Thorin’s. Soft and warm--not sensations Thorin would have thought to feel on this wintery peak, with so much of his body torn and bleeding. Bilbo broke back a hair’s breadth.   
“Please live, Thorin. You have so much to live for.”  
Thorin blinked at him, dazed. “More… than I knew,” he rasped. Bilbo’s eyes, dark and kind, stared earnestly into his. They were all Thorin could see. He wished he could see, just one more time, Bilbo’s hair golden with sunlight. The sun would shine on him again, without Thorin. He had to be happy without Thorin. He had to go home.  
“Farewell, Amralime,” Thorin managed to say. “Go back to your books and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow. If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a… merrier place.”  
Even Bilbo’s touch was fading. If only Thorin had just a little more time, he could say more. He could sit with Bilbo under a kindly tree, and learn from him how to find peace. That image felt suddenly quite powerful to him. If Bilbo would stay by his side for just a little while longer… if Thorin could learn from him…  
“Keep hold…” Thorin whispered, “of my hand.”  
Thorin’s fingers were all but numb, but there was a pressure against them.  
“I won’t let go,” Bilbo said. “Stay with me, Thorin. Gandalf!”  
Thorin closed his eyes. A moment ago, death had been sure. But whether unconsciousness now took him for death or sleep, he had no power to fight against it.

His chest ached, burning with a stab wound. Other places he could feel in his body had been slashed. His entire being ached, no strength left in him to even raise his head.  
But he could hear things. Voices… was that Bilbo’s voice? He clung to the sound, and almost as soon as he did, it stopped so someone else could speak.   
Bilbo, he thought desperately, trying to get his mouth to form the words.   
“Thorin? Thorin, can you hear me?”  
He was drained. His stomach was sick. His eyes, heavier than lead, slowly opened. Bilbo was standing over him. The canvas ceiling of a tent was above them. Bilbo’s face was clean, perhaps some time had passed. Thorin’s hand twitched, searching for Bilbo’s.  
“You’re okay, Thorin, you’re going to live, just like I told you.” he smiled as though that would disguise his obvious worry.  
Thorin could only stare. “Stay,” he breathed out.  
Bilbo’s face broke. He took Thorin’s hand and held it against his lips. “I’ll stay. I promise.”  
Good. Thorin’s eyes dropped closed. 

He woke again with an empty hand, and slowly opened his eyes. If only his throat weren’t so dry, he could--  
He coughed, and pain stopped his breath. There was something wrong, of course there was something wrong, he’d been stabbed through the chest, maybe one of his lungs wasn’t working, he couldn’t breathe.   
“Thorin! Thorin, just breathe!”  
He turned panicked eyes to the hobbit at his bedside. Bilbo started propping him up, someone on the other side of him was helping. Tears sprang to Thorin’s eyes. The coughing wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t draw breath--  
“Thorin, you can do this. Breathe in. Please.”   
He took a breath. In his ears it sounded like a death rattle. His next cough cleared his lungs and shot pains through his torso. He whimpered.  
“Come on, do it again.”  
Slowly, each breath became easier than the last.   
“Okay. We’re going to have you drink something now.” That was a dwarf’s voice. He couldn’t give it enough attention to determine which of his company it was.  
Thorin kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, willing himself not to pass out as they brought a meaty broth to his lips and he drank.   
They laid him back down. Bilbo took his hand again, watching him anxiously.   
“It’s no good,” Thorin said hoarsely. “Should’ve… left me.” He felt a tear trace out of his eye.  
“How could I have?” Bilbo asked fervently. He reached down with his free hand and touched Thorin’s cheek, brushing the tear away. “I couldn’t.” He withdrew his hand and squeezed Thorin’s. “Don’t worry about that now. We’re here now. Just stay with me.”  
Thorin wondered if he could. 

He was running through a forest, a dark one where huge gray branches seemed to grope at him, snagging against his white coat. He had to find a way out. That's what he was searching for, right?  
He reached a stream. The water in it smelled terrible and stagnant, and moved sluggishly.  
And Bilbo stood on the other side. A shadow loomed over his shoulder, wielding a shortbow. The shadow aimed at him.  
Then the dream shifted rapidly. He was the stag, then the hunter aiming at the white stag, and then he was aiming at Bilbo, right between the eyes. No, he had Bilbo gripped by the front of the shirt, lifting him off his feet.   
You shouldn't have done that, it's bad luck.   
No one was stopping him. He was throwing Bilbo headfirst off the ramparts.  
Shouldn't have done that.   
Bilbo was falling. Thorin had to wake up. If Bilbo hit the ground, he'd be dead.  
Shouldn't have--  
Thorin shouted, and was immediately pulled back into his body. His back was arching on the cot, fire spread across his chest.  
"Thorin, no!" Bilbo's voice. Bilbo!  
Thorin reached for him, grabbing for any part he could reach. He ended up with a fistful of Bilbo's coat. Bilbo gripped his shoulders, a weak attempt to keep him down.  
"Bilbo," Thorin gasped. "Bilbo--you--" he was alive. He was fine.  
"I'm here, Thorin. You're fine."  
Thorin breathed hard, wounds stinging. He focused in on Bilbo's worried face. Thorin took a few more breaths, trying to calm down and get rid of his sudden dizziness. He could still feel the dream, how it had been his hands that had nearly slain his friend.  
"It's okay, Thorin," Bilbo whispered. "You're okay."  
Thorin heaved another breath and released him, turning his face away. "Fili and Kili," he said hoarsely, turning back to him.  
"Kili is stable, thanks to Tauriel." Bilbo gestured across the room.  
Who…? Oh, the elf with the red hair.  
"And Fili?" Thorin whispered desperately.   
Bilbo opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "He didn't make it."   
Thorin closed his eyes, breathing through his teeth.   
"Shouldn't have sent them in."  
"Thorin, it's not your fault. It's… it was battle, and you did the best you could."  
Thorin took in a breath and slowly released it. "Did Dain survive?"  
"Yes. Just a bit bruised."  
"I need to talk to him."  
"I--now?"  
Thorin grunted in affirmation.  
Bilbo, casting him more unsure glances, left the tent.  
Thorin finally got a look down at himself. His chest was tightly wrapped, and a few other places as well, like his foot. He could feel his heartbeat pounding against his wounds with a painful ache. Other than that he wore only his breeches and a thick wool blanket that had started to slide off.   
Achingly, he turned his head to look across the room. There was a cot there, and a table in between that obscured the top half of Kili's face. The lower half, and Kili's skin, was pale, and his chest rose and fell in brief, shallow breaths. He watched him for a long moment, willing his own life force to go into Kili.  
Stomping boots against stone sounded, and Dain threw open the tent flap. Thorin caught a brief glimpse of the dark walls of Erebor behind him before he strode in, Bilbo close behind. Thorin briefly raised his hand so Dain could grasp it.  
"Thorin," Dain said fervently, grasping his hand and kneeling by his bedside, "you have no idea how glad I am to see you awake."  
"How is everyone?" Thorin asked, "and how long was I out?"  
"Near 10 days. We've accepted the Laketown refugees into the Halls for safety. The treasure's been moved to the lower levels. Thranduil has sent most of his army back, but remains with a small retinue. I've done the same, but the Iron Hills aren't far if we should suffer a second attack, and we're keeping scouts out."  
Thorin sighed with relief. "You've done well. Thank you." He squeezed his hand weakly.   
Dain only nodded, smiling beneath his beard.  
With difficulty, Thorin finally spoke. "I'm going to abdicate."  
Dain's eyes widened. "Thorin, no!"  
"It's better this way. Once Kili is ready, I would have him be King Under the Mountain. Until then, Erebor needs you. Will you accept?"  
Dain shook his head. "No, Thorin, it isn't right--"  
"Please," Thorin whispered.  
"You're the one who took back Erebor!"  
"For myself. I have to give it up. It nearly… I nearly…" his eyes went to Bilbo, who still stood near the tent flap, dark eyes wide. "I have to stay away, Dain. For the good of our people."  
Dain was still shaking his head, face screwed up as though in pain.  
"Would you have me beg?" Thorin asked quietly.  
Dain frowned at their clenched hands. "No, sire. And until you've formally abdicated, you are my king. And I will do as you command. By the time Kili comes of age, Erebor will be as great as it ever was."  
A weight seemed to lift off of Thorin's chest, and he smiled. "Thank you. I will soon be strong enough to give my abdication before witnesses." He closed his eyes, exhausted from the effort of speaking. Dain pressed a hairy kiss to his hand and gently set the hand down.  
"Take care of him, Master Bilbo," he heard Dain mutter.  
"I will, thank you."  
He hadn't thought he'd fallen asleep, but when he opened his eyes Oin was there and Bilbo gone. 

\--  
It took many weeks before Thorin finally regained enough energy to be restless. He and Kili both slept a great deal, as though every day they had battled hard. Oin, Bilbo, and Tauriel were in the tent the most, but every member of the company had occasion to stop by, and Thorin found himself apologizing to every one of them and refused to budge on his decision to abdicate. Only Balin didn’t push him to reverse his decision. The old dwarf simply watched him for a long moment, then nodded.  
Thorin’s heart sank a little. He’d almost let himself be persuaded by the others. “You do think it wise, then?”  
Balin took his hand reassuringly. “Sometimes it is wisdom to take yourself away from temptation. And I… wish I could take my personal feelings out of this, or erase for you what happened those weeks while we searched for the Arkenstone. I can see it has broken you. I wish to see you healed. And Erebor is the wrong place for that.”  
Thorin’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s the right place?”  
“Well.” Balin’s eyes twinkled a little, like he had thought of something. “Somewhere peaceful, I suppose, where gold has no hold over the hearts of the people.” He squeezed his hand. “Somewhere where it doesn’t matter if you could have been king. Where you can take pride in not the circumstances of your birth, but the work of your hands.”  
Thorin chuckled, and his diaphragm seared with pain. He hissed, then looked back to Balin with a subdued smile. “It sounds like you already have a place in mind.”  
“Hmph. If you want recommendations, you should talk to Bilbo.” Balin patted his hand and sat back. “In any case, there are plenty of wars still to be fought, if you’ll have them.”  
“Moria,” Thorin said distantly. In his mind’s eye he could see Azog holding aloft a graying dwarvish head. He grimaced. The thought used to fill him mainly with righteous anger--now it made him sick and full of grief.

Thorin abdicated as soon as he could sit up to sign the documents in front of witnesses. He had a face of stone the entire time and spoke little. Kili had temporarily taken a turn for the worse and wasn't present. Bilbo did his best not to hover anxiously over Thorin. Thorin barely met anyone's eyes. Once the documents were signed, he nodded at Dain and sat back in his wheelchair, pale and grim. Bilbo started wheeling him back to his sick tent. They had to take a roundabout path away from the council chamber.  
"Wait," Thorin said at one of the intersections. He pointed to the left corridor. "Take me that way."  
"Thorin, I specifically memorized this route and if we leave it I'm going to be lost," Bilbo said to the back of his head.  
Thorin turned his head just a little. "You won't. Not while you're with me."  
Bilbo sighed and turned the chair to the left. The corridor soon opened up into one of the forge chambers, although this one had some slightly different equipment, long pipes like spears that Bilbo hadn't seen before. Thorin directed him across the room into an archway.  
Beyond the archway lay a dark room. Bilbo quickly lit the torch by the door with the box of matches he'd learned to always carry around, and once that was lit, the complicated lighting system that the dwarves had established throughout Erebor was ignited, filling the room with dim warm light.  
The room was full of colored glass: orbs and creatures and ribbons and prisms, many of them small and displayed on rusting shelves. Overhead were complicated light fixtures--many of them, like this was a storage room.  
"Erebor was the home of many crafts," Thorin said. Bilbo rounded his chair to stand next to him, hand resting lightly on his forearm. "Glass is not as expensive as jewels or gold, and it's more fragile. I'm pleased to see that Smaug didn't touch it." Thorin looked around the room, his face more lost than pleased. Then he nodded. "That's all, Master Baggins. We can return to your route."  
"I--that's all?" Bilbo said. "You don't want to look at any of them more closely?"  
"You may return later if you wish, Bilbo," Thorin said. His face had clouded over, preoccupied. "This place isn't for me."  
"I…" Bilbo wished he could think of something to say. It would make sense if Thorin were simply tired. But it was more than that. A light in him had gone out. He looked around for inspiration and grabbed a figurine off the shelf. He knelt before Thorin and held it up before him. Thorin's cold blue eyes turned to it impassively.  
"Doesn't it remind you of Beorn?" Bilbo said with a little smile. He turned the little bear so it caught the light.  
Thorin sighed. "I don't think Beorn was blue." He touched Bilbo's hand and gently pushed it away. "I appreciate it, Bilbo. Perhaps we can come back another day. Today, it's…" he swallowed and looked away.  
"No, I, I understand," Bilbo got to his feet and tucked the little bear into his pocket. "It could help to talk about it? I'm only here to help you, Thorin."  
"You are too kind for your own good," Thorin said miserably. "I'm sorry for how I treated you."  
"No--one moment of weakness doesn't define our relationship, Thorin."  
"I should have seen the path that would have led me to that moment," Thorin said. He leaned over and grabbed a wheel, pulling on it to turn himself away from Bilbo. "It's not just you. I know I've made the right choice in abdicating--!" His voice broke into a sob. "But how do I go on? How can I live with myself, knowing that the moment I had the power I sought after all my life, I abused it and ruined everything? If I hadn't--maybe Fili--"  
"Shh--" Bilbo leaned over the back of the chair and hugged Thorin around the shoulders from behind. "There are so many maybes, Thorin. It's a miracle that you're alive, and Kili. We would be worse off if we had lost you. I--on Ravenhill, I knew that if I lost you there, I would be more alone than I ever have been. I would go home and leave you buried in the Lonely Mountain, but you would have haunted me, much worse than if I could have left you safe and alive." He briefly tightened his grip. "Thank you for holding on."  
Thorin's hand pressed against the side of Bilbo's head. "You're such a fool," he whispered fondly. He stroked his hair once, then dropped his hand back into his lap. Bilbo released him, sniffling. "I wouldn't mind coming back here for a better look on another day," Thorin said, clearing his throat. "But I'm ready now to rest."  
"Of course." Bilbo started pushing the chair, and on the way out lowered the little metal hood that snuffed out the torch. With a few gentle corrections from Thorin, they made it back to the healing tent. 

When Thorin awoke, the tent was empty except for Kili, who was sitting up supported by pillows, flipping a small knife over and over in the air. Thorin sighed.  
"Glad to see you're feeling better," he rumbled.  
Kili frowned at him. "You should have woken me. I wanted to be there."  
"To see your throne secure?" Thorin teased.  
Kili's face grew dark, and he raised the knife. "I will use this." He lowered it. "I wanted to be there for you. I'm still upset you did it."  
"Dain will make a fine regent. Also, he can walk fairly well, I hear."  
"Don't give me that. You'll be on your feet soon enough."  
Thorin stared at the ceiling.  
"You've worried Bilbo, you know," Kili said. "He cares for you a great deal. Oin says he barely left your side while you were sick--"  
"Don't talk about Bilbo," Thorin said. "I don't--I don't know what to think of him. I… keep wishing I could give what little strength I have left to you, so you can grow strong and healthy, but I get the feeling that the only reason I have some strength at all is because of Bilbo." He blinked tears away. "He won't let me go, even though I'm only a shadow of myself. I have been ever since I laid eyes on that accursed gold. I want to go, Kili. Now that your future is secure, what else have I to live for?"  
Thorin finally looked over at Kili, who looked pale and alarmed. "Don't talk like that," Kili said, "don't think like that. You--told Bilbo you'd go back with him to see more glass figurines, didn't you? For Mahal's sake, Uncle, your life doesn't have to be some enormous quest! You can just be alive to collect moments of peace. You--eurgh--" Kili grimaced and put a hand against his chest, leaning back more heavily against his pillows.  
"Kili?" Thorin said, struggling to sit up. "Kili! Bilbo!"  
In a moment Bilbo was rushing into the tent.   
"Take deep breaths," he said, pressing on Kili's shoulders, "we need to keep your chest open. And you lay back down," he snapped at Thorin. He reached over and grabbed a jar of salve off the bedside table, opened it, and smothered some on the exposed skin on Kili's chest. The sharp smell of peppermint and eucalyptus filled the tent. Kili gasped in breaths and when Bilbo tried to take his hand from his chest, he gripped Bilbo's hand instead. After a minute or so his breathing became easier, and he released Bilbo's hand and relaxed against the pillows.  
"Sorry," Kili muttered. "Got upset with Thorin."  
"Thorin's upset enough with himself," Bilbo said gently, shooting him an apologetic smile, "you just worry about getting better and not re-collapsing that lung."  
Kili nodded stiffly. Color was coming back to his face. He sighed and closed his eyes.  
Once Kili seemed to be secure, Bilbo disappeared out the tent for a few minutes before returning with Tauriel, who without so much as a glance at Thorin hurried to Kili's bedside and took the stool there. She began gently chiding him, and Bilbo sat on Thorin's bed and patted his hand.  
"He wasn't too hard on you, was he?"  
Thorin snorted. "If he was I deserved it."   
Bilbo sighed and took Thorin's hand to press an affectionate kiss to his knuckles. Thorin's eyes widened in surprise, and his breath caught. Bilbo caught his reaction and quickly put his hand down, blushing.  
"I, I'll see you later," Bilbo said.  
"Leaving me alone with them?" Thorin said in a mock hurtful tone, looking pointedly at Kili and Tauriel.   
"Let that be your punishment for upsetting Kili," Bilbo said with mock sternness. "I'll go get lunch for us."  
After Bilbo left Thorin looked wonderingly at his own hand. What had Bilbo meant by that? Had he--  
A sudden memory came to him, that Thorin had dismissed before as a dream. Ravenhill--Had Bilbo really kissed him?  
He looked across the tent. Tauriel was leaning in close, whispering something that was making Kili's face light up with a rare grin.  
"Hey, you two," Thorin said grumpily.   
Tauriel immediately sat up, looking guilty. "Sorry, I--"  
"Uncle, we weren't, um…"   
Thorin waited, suddenly curious about what excuse they thought they had to give. He raised his eyebrows. But they quieted, waiting for him. "I was only going to ask," he said carefully, "whether you knew when Bilbo is planning to return to the Shire."  
The two exchanged looks.  
"No," Tauriel said innocently.  
"No idea," Kili put in, "perhaps you should ask him yourself? But I highly doubt he'd leave before he was sure you were stable."  
Thorin glared. "And why's that? Why shouldn't he feel free to leave?"  
"Well, he cares about you," Kili said. "If that much isn't obvious to you, then--"  
"Oh, of course it's obvious," Thorin snapped. "I just don't know what to do about it. Oh, nevermind." He turned onto his side, facing away from them, and tried not to eavesdrop.  
Thorin gripped the edge of his blanket, glaring at the material in his hand. In the end, he simply didn't deserve Bilbo's kindness, which made it vexing that Bilbo continued to show it. And that Thorin found himself relying on it like a lifeline.  
Everything about Bilbo made Thorin feel calmer. His practicality, goodness, straightforwardness, desire to make Thorin happier even on one of the worst days of his life. If Thorin were to continue living, he'd want Bilbo to be in that life.  
Slowly, paths were opening before him. He had to be better to Bilbo, see if the hobbit would accept him. If he didn't…? Thorin would find another reason to stay alive until the dwarves were ready to take back Moria. Then maybe he could get neatly killed in battle. Or not, and he'd look for another reason to keep going. It was too far to see ahead, too dim to know if he'd be able to find another reason.  
He hadn't meant to fall asleep again, but when he woke up he found a bowl of cold stew on his bedside table. Kili was asleep, snoring softly. Thorin bit back a groan as he sat up straight and ate his cold dinner.  
Right as he was finishing, Bilbo stumbled in, looking groggy and his curly hair in disarray.  
"Oh, good. Thorin. I thought I heard you, um, being awake."  
"Bilbo." Thorin set his bowl aside. "Sit down, I need to talk to you."  
Bilbo paused and squinted at him.  
"Please," Thorin tacked on as an afterthought.  
Bilbo sat down on the end of the cot, quickly rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Uh--yes. Yes?"  
"I… don't really remember well what happened on Ravenhill," Thorin said. "And what I think I remember might have been some dream, so I wanted to make sure there were no misunderstandings between us." He looked very seriously at Bilbo, heart hammering with trepidation.  
Bilbo looked back, poker-faced.  
"Did you kiss me?" Thorin asked  
Bilbo blanched and looked like he was going to laugh it off. "I? Ki--pfft. Well, I mean, considering--listen." He looked Thorin in the face. "You were dying, Thorin. And I knew it was my last chance to tell you how I felt. Feel. And I…" he looked at his knees. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it, and ruined our friendship."  
Thorin's heart was bursting with delight and something like fear. He laughed a little, shaking his head. "And were you going to just keep it as a secret forever, hoping I'd forget?"  
"What, like how you were going to keep it to yourself that mithril armor is really only something a king would give to someone he intended to marry?"  
Thorin cringed.  
Bilbo wagged a finger. "Hmm, yeah, I've been talking to your company. Apparently you could buy an entire kingdom with this." He fished just under his collar to tug at the edge of the mithril. Knowing Bilbo still wore it despite knowing its value and meaning warmed Thorin's heart.  
Thorin settled back into his pillows, still mostly sitting up. "I'm glad I did one thing sort of right in those terrible weeks," he said with a fond smile. "I hope you keep it, and let it protect you on whatever adventures you have in the future."  
Bilbo frowned in surprise. "Well, I'm not leaving you," he said. "I don't mind keeping it, but I'm staying in Erebor."  
It was Thorin's turn to frown. "I'm not staying in Erebor."  
"Oh. You--? Where will you go?"  
"I was hoping you might have some suggestions. Balin thought I should go somewhere peaceful..."  
Bilbo's face cleared. He scooted up the cot so he could place a hand over Thorin's.  
"Come to the Shire," he said, "With me. You can stay with me for as long as you like, I won't ask you to stay a moment longer."  
Thorin took in a breath and nodded, hardly trusting himself to speak around the sudden tears that choked his throat. He slid his hand into Bilbo's.   
"We'll plant the seed from Beorn's garden," he whispered.  
Bilbo nodded, smiling. "Maybe get a bigger armchair, for you."  
Thorin took a shaky breath. "I want to apologize--"  
"Oh Thorin, you already--"  
"For all the things I'm going to do wrong. I never want to hurt you again, in any way, but I don't trust myself." He chuckled wetly. "You're taking on a handful of a dwarf."  
"I know!" Bilbo leaned in with a laugh. "I know. And I won't be perfect either. I like to think I have a gift for vexing you."  
Thorin leaned his head back and laughed at that, then grimaced, clutching his diaphragm. His wound throbbed. He sighed and smiled at Bilbo, who now looked worried.  
"Don't fret, Master Baggins. I have a feeling I will heal more quickly now."  
"I don't think that's how this works," Bilbo said, but a smile flickered across his face.   
"Oh?" Thorin drew Bilbo's hand up and kissed it. "And you're the expert on battle wounds?"  
Bilbo blushed. "I--yes, in fact, that is, I've spoken to a few experts, and…"  
Thorin kissed the inside of his wrist, watching his face. His blush deepened. His hand was trembling in Thorin's grasp.  
"And I… well, perhaps you're right. I don't know. Um." He met Thorin's eyes with a strange sort of yearning.  
Thorin lowered their hands, now blushing as well. If Bilbo wasn't ready, that was perfectly f--  
Bilbo leaned forward and kissed Thorin. And Thorin felt that he would stay in the Shire for a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> You know, this just started as me feeling sad after watching the Hobbit the other week... anyway I feel like there aren't enough Bagginshield fics that conclude Thorin should go live in the Shire with Bilbo, so here we are :)   
> ALSO inspired by Richard Armitage's comments from "Hobbit Chronicles: Art & Design" like,
> 
> “Thorin’s relationship with Bilbo was key to the character’s evolution in the story. From the beginning the relationship had been unfolding and gaining a kind of warm clarity. Bilbo proved himself to be a useful asset. Once inside the Mountain, Thorin remembered it was Bilbo’s initiative that led to the riddle of the back door being solved, and it was Bilbo who faced the Dragon. Thorin’s disintegrating relationship with his Company infused the intensity of his singular obsession with Bilbo..."
> 
> And I wanted to explore that idea further, like Bilbo had sort of become part of the hoard in Thorin's mind. Hopefully I brought a little of that out, idk. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


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